


Let Me Show You

by kalewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Little Shit, F/M, Monster Hunters, Psychic Abilities, Psychic abilities have their perks, Sam is a Tease, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalewrites/pseuds/kalewrites
Summary: You have psychic abilities that lets you hunt the Supernatural with Sam and Dean. Sam decides maybe he has other ideas on those abilities.





	Let Me Show You

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. How may I help you?" The annoyingly chipper voice of the receptionist scratches behind your eyes, joining the chill the reaches down your spine and to your toes.    
  
"Actually, you already have." You say as you nod at him where he stands behind her, his blade slipping quietly between her ribs, the only sound from her a small surprised gasp turned gargle. The chill dissipates, and you take a second to reaffirm your mental wall. His trust in you never fails to amaze you.      
  
Mind Sight. Telepathy. Psychic. Mind Reading.    
  
There was a lot of names for what you could do, but none which you chose to adopt. Hollywood fuelled the incorrect assumption that it was hearing strings of thoughts, fully formed sentences, easy to decipher. Sadly, this was not the case. People don't actually think in sentences, its bubbles of thoughts and feelings, half-formed images projected at you, often all at once, getting muddled with your own. It wasn't until you got older you had learned to tune it out, replaced the ever present noise with a static that became your life line. Sure, at times it was useful, and more than once it had saved your life, but there's nothing like being 16 and finding out exactly how cruel high school girls can be. Even your own friends.   
  
Yeah, when it came to people, it was better not to root around in their thoughts because in this case, ignorance really was bliss.    
  
These days, you're a hunter. You learned early on that the world was tinged with nightmares, and after you witnessed the hunter you later came to know as Rufus take out a particularly nasty Vampire, you decided to put your 'gifts' to good use. Mostly because the incessant pushing of energy from each person that followed you everywhere wasn't for monsters lurking under human disguises. It was like a cold, empty pocket of air. Unmistakable, and made it  easier on you than most others to decide who was playing at being human. If you had to guess, you'd say it was linked to souls. Presumably, monsters didn't have one, leaving the void, cold space inside them that's akin to walking through that first blast of air-conditioning when you enter a store in Summer.    
  
"Y/N. Hey, we have to move." He snaps you from your thoughts, his hand clasping your upper arm, the warmth of it seeping through your top and further. Everything in you pulls towards the warmth for more than just heat.    
  
"Sorry, Sam." You glance up at him, feeling the taptap of his energy pushing the boundaries of your Wall. It's harder to block out with physical contact, but oh how you enjoy it anyway.      
  
You step away and around him, ignoring the way his eyes track your movements. He follows behind you, the heat of him pushing at your back and forcing you to concentrate extra hard on each step. Both of you carefully shift the body of the receptionist into the waiting faux delivery cart Sam had brought in moments before you, a laugh bubbling up at the name of it; Bob's Meat Cart. Oh, if only Bob knew. When you raise your eyes to Sam's, he's smiling too, then laughing and now you're both full-bellied and eye-watering as you push out the door and towards Baby.   
  
"Jeez, you two, have a little class? Someone died." Dean's smirks at you, pleased as punch with himself. You slowly and pointedly roll your eyes at him, but can't help bite the inside of your mouth to keep from smiling at him.    
  
"An evil someone." You point out as they transfer the body to the trunk, the broken street lamp giving a little more cover, deliberately broken you notice. Dean's a lot smarter than credit given.      
  
Your eyes catch on the way Sam's shirt rides up at the back exposing a few sweet inches of his sun-kissed skin and those two dimples on his lower back that makes you trip over what it would be like to trace them with your tongue. The seconds tick by, each one longer than the last before he rights himself and his skin disappears. You blink slow and purposeful, chasing the images from your mind as you glance over at Dean. He's watching you, seen you watch Sam, and he's wearing a look that says he knows exactly where your thoughts are. The corner of his mouth turns up, eyes dancing with knowledge and possibly a hint of approval, but that could just be you projecting. Sam turns to you both and the look disappears as quickly as it came, relief washing over you at Dean's clear intentions not to call you out.    
  
"What?" Sam asks, glancing between you like he knows.    
  
"Nothing." You blurt out a little too eager, then hurry to cover, "Uh- Shall we get going? Dead body to torch n'all that."    
  
He hesitates, eyes narrowing, but lets it drop, looping round and dropping heavily into Baby's front seat. You climb into the back and spend the next 30 minutes avoiding Dean's eyes in the rear-view mirror, knowing he's trying to talk without words.    
  
\----    
  
"We're going out. Get dressed." Dean tells you, giving no room to argue as he disappears from the doorway.    
  
You could tell by the way his fingers flexed and tightened on the wheel on the drive home that he was in need of a little...release. He took a sideline seat for most of the hunt which only added to his pent up energy, and Dean all pent up and frustrated was no fun for anyone so you reluctantly got dressed, nothing too fancy since it was just the local bar you would be dropping in to. Just for long enough for Dean to drink himself stupid or fuck himself stupid. Either way, not a reason to upgrade from jeans and a top.    
  
The bar is loud and smells like beer and bad decisions. It's also sorta like home since you guys spend your down time here, it's really grown on you. Dean's already at the bar ordering beers and Sam's searching out a table for you to sit at. He finds a booth in the back corner, a favourite with Dean since it has a view of the whole bar but a bit of privacy if you want to talk shop.You slide into the booth facing the wall and Sam slides in beside you, blocking any and all views of the bar which is fine by you, you're just surprised he didn't take the empty seat across from you. The thrum of energy pushes at you again and you take a deep breath to ground yourself but all that does is surround you in him, the hint of soap and sandalwood and was that cologne? Your stomach dips at the thought of Sam using cologne, assuming the only reason he would is because he intends to take someone home. Someone who isn't you.    
  
It jars you more than you care to admit, your feelings for the younger Winchester was something you tried to keep under wraps knowing he could never feel the same. Especially not knowing your 'abilities'. Yeah, true, him and Dean had taken you in like family and you'd stuck together ever since, but it doesn't mean they don't have their doubts. Lingering looks shared over your head when you accidentally answer an unasked question. It took a lot of energy to keep out of their heads 24/7, especially if you were injured on a hunt.    
  
Your spiralling thoughts are broken by Dean's return, landing a beer in front of you as he thumps into the seat across from you, his eyes immediately scanning the bar before settling on a beautiful olive-skinned brunette. He throws her a lazy smile before turning back to you and Sam.    
  
"What, you aren't going for it?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.    
  
"Patience, sweetheart. Gotta work her up a bit." He goddamn winks at you.    
  
God, she didn't stand a chance. Poor girl.    
  
"What about you, you looking?" He asks you, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn up. He baiting you, the bastard.    
  
"Nope." You reply, popping the P and daring him to push further.    
  
Sam watches the exchange with his eyebrows pushed together like they're trying to meet in the middle but says nothing. He shifts in his seat a little, the length of his thigh now resting against yours bringing your eyes down to them. Your heart jumps into your throat, the beat of it so strong you fear its visible under your skin. An image slams into you, hazy but there because you got careless, Sam linking fingers with a woman, fingers twisted with bed sheets,  _ want _ ,  _ need _ .    
  
Sh-t, he was definitely gonna bring someone home tonight. You slam your wall in place again, mentally berating yourself for letting it slip.    
  
You catch eyes with Dean again and he gives you a smirk and an eyebrow wag that's got you wanting you reach across the table and slap the freckles off his perfect face. Before you do, he clears his throat and starts recounting today's hunt and the night moves on, the tensions from the day slowly draining. Beer flows a little too well, the buzz of the alcohol starting to poke holes in your wall, drops of images leaking over your own.    
  
"Alright losers, time for me to make my move." He nods towards the brunette who's making eyes at him.   
  
"Wrap it up, dude!" You yell as he scoots out of the booth, he throws a wink over his shoulder before dropping in beside the girl.    
  
Warm fingers wrap around your wrist and tug at you, "Hey, you want another?" Sam asks, lifting his bottle.    
  
"Hmm, I probably shouldn't." You tap once on your forehead by way of explanation. He nods, but doesn't let go, chewing along his lip as his eyes never leave yours. "Don't hurt yourself, Sammy. Need that brain of yours."    
  
"I just- aren't you ever curious?" He asks, pushing forward so that he surrounds you completely.    
  
"Well, yeah, but most of the time it's something you'd rather not hear, ya know?" You think about the horrible secrets over the years you'd rather not know. People were truly awful sometimes.    
  
"Yeah, but what about, you know, me and Dean?" His eyes are dark and unreadable, like he's saying something without saying it.    
  
"Christ, Sam, you're the last person I wanna do that to." You look down, just to get a reprieve from his stare and find yourself locked on his hand gripping your wrist, his thumb moving in small circles at your pulse point, each circle sending a tremor up your spine. He's too close, every sense overwhelmed with everything Sam. Overwhelmed and somehow not enough.    
  
"Oh?"    
  
"Yeah, ya know, human decency for starters but then..."    
  
"Then..." His hand slides up your arms to your elbow, the slightest pressure pulling you forward.    
  
"What if I hear something I don't wanna?" You say, and then murmur, "Or see..." Thinking back to the image from earlier, nothing like seeing the guy you're into fantasizing about someone else.    
  
"What if I want you to hear it?" He grips a little harder, gets even closer to you in the booth and your heart responds, pushing at your chest like it's trying to escape.    
  
"No one wants that."    
  
"What did you see?" He asks, his arm coming over the top of the both so he's almost caging you in.    
  
"Uh-nothing?" He gives you the signature Bitch face, "Jeez, just- earlier you leaned against me and I caught a little of something, okay? No big deal."    
  
"A little of what?" He urges, pressing for an answer you're not sure he really wants, what is he doing?    
  
"Look, let's just say I know I'm the only one prepping to leave here alone tonight okay?" His eyebrows pull together, his hand releasing its hold on you. He runs his gigantic paw over his face like he's frustrated and you're momentarily worried he's mad, but he brings the hand up again and links his fingers with yours. You look down at them, his large hand engulfing your much smaller one but still fitting together in a way that suggests more than it should.    
  
"Let me show you, Y/N, what I think about?" His eyes are dark and hypnotic, he presses you into his chest, knowing touch makes it stronger and the way you're pressed together makes it hard to ignore the buzz of energy pushing against your skull. "Go on." His voice rumbling down his chest where your head is pressed against it.    
  
It's an odd request, but you've never been able to deny Sam anything. There's a thought tickling your skull and you allow it a little hope. Closing your eyes, you slowly peel away the barricade inside your head, just enough to let Sam in but maintained enough to keep everyone else out. It's instant, the familiar thrum of energy filling your head, blurry and muffled at first before spreading out and realigning inside your head.    
  
It's you, tonight in the booth, facing Sam and talking animatedly, head bobbing around and a wide smile stretched across your face, and then suddenly Sam's kissing you, fingers wound in your hair,  _ want _ ,  _ need _ . The image from before is back but this time it's clearer, the woman under Sam is you, his fingers twisting together with yours and the bedsheets. Oh. OH. Your spine turns liquid at the thoughts, the possibilities but mostly because you can feel it all, feel how much he wants you. Your breaths are coming a little sharper now, lungs desperately dragging in air and your muscles are pulling away from your bones. You pull back from him, as far as he'll let you anyway, and his face hovers close to yours.    
  
"Well?"    
  
You tip forward and close the distance between you, settling your lips over his in the barest of touches, feeling the soft warmth of them and the hint of beer and spearmint. He presses harder, mouth slanting against yours to deepen the kiss. Heat pools in you and stretches out across your skin from your toes to your fingertips, every cell in your strains towards him, pushing at you till it's all you can feel. The strands of his hair dance across your face as he pushes your further into the booth. He kisses you deep and thorough, but like he's got all the time in the world.    
  
You break apart reluctantly, gulping in a few breaths to steady yourself, "How long have you...."    
  
"A while." He replies, smiling at you a little lopsided.    
  
"Me too." You admit, threading your fingers through his again, marveling at the still perfect way they sit together despite his size. You can feel the relief pouring out of him, as well as desire and maybe something that tastes a little of love.    
  
"Wanna get out of here?"    
  
"Fuck yes."


End file.
